


Guidelines for Harmonious Living

by thedeadtributes



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: AU, Eventual Smut, M/M, Past Abuse, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-30
Updated: 2013-02-13
Packaged: 2017-11-27 12:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedeadtributes/pseuds/thedeadtributes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Morgan is just a temp drummer, until he lands a position in the biggest up and coming band. He is warned that the lead singer is difficult, but he can't help feeling for Spencer, who he can relate to like no one else. The manager gives Morgan guidelines for dealing with Spencer AKA Roxie that he promptly chooses to ignore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Okay, so this story is totally AU and a lot of it is meant to have an edge of humor to it. But it’s also will have its deep moments. Just a warning it is not going to be all light and fluffy.

Starring

Spencer Reid as Roxie Goldenrod, Singer, Musician, and 'The Star'  
Derek Morgan, Drums  
Aaron 'Hotch' Hotchner, Bass  
Emily Prentiss, Guitar  
David Rossi, Manager and Asshole  
Penelope Garcia, Stylist and Make-up Artist  
Jennifer 'JJ' Jareau, Media Consultant

Derek Morgan was only a studio musician and an occasional substitute at concerts, and even though he was the best at what he did, he was still surprised when he got the chance to be a permanent member of an up-and-coming band that was supposed to be the biggest thing since The Beatles.

He had never had a manager, preferring to book jobs himself. That was probably why he had never made it big. That being said, he made a solid living and loved what he did. But one day after playing a gig in the place of a famous drummer who had broken his ribs jumping off the stage all that changed.

Backstage after the show a suave looking man in a suit jacket and jeans approached him. "I'm David Rossi. Manager of Roxie Goldenrod. Sound familiar?"

"Heard the name, not the music. What's your point?"

"Halfway through recording the album, the drummer backs out. She's freaking out saying the stress is too much for her, or something. I think she just got her heart broken. Either way, she's not cut out for this business," Rossi said.

Morgan smiled. "You're looking for someone to record the rest of the album?"

"No, I'm looking for a permanent replacement," Rossi said.

"What's in it for me?" Morgan asked. He had scarcely thought about holding down a permanent job in years. Much less in a band he had never listened to. What if they were total crap?

Rossi smiled. He looked confident that he would win. "A good amount from the album, and any future ones. Concert revenue. You'll get the same as the rest of the band. Well, not the same as Roxie. He's a lot more important than you."

"Roxie's a he?" Morgan asked, amused.

"That's right. It seems like you don't know much about the band, so I'm going to lay it out for you. Roxie is the next thing. His music is going to change the face of the world forever. And we are going to be raking in the dough. I can easily find someone else for this job, but you'd regret it as long as you lived. Now do I make myself clear?"

Morgan wondered if that was really true. He had heard that they were supposed to be huge. But who could really predict these things? "I'll do the studio gig, and we'll see where it ends up."

"No. We're supposed to be touring next month. You'll do the tour and the studio, or nothing. What'll it be, Derek Morgan?"

"Fine, I'll do it. When do I start?" Morgan asked.

Rossi put on a pair of shades despite the dark. "We'll pick you up tomorrow at 8 sharp. Where are you staying?"

"The Super 8," Morgan replied, slightly embarrassed.

Rossi laughed. "Not for much longer. Take this, study it." He handed Morgan a piece of folded up paper.

"What is it?" Morgan asked.

"Just a bit of friendly advice." And with that Rossi was gone.

Morgan pulled out the paper and read it with a look of awe on his face.

Guidelines for Harmonious Living:

1) Do not mention the drummer you replaced to Roxie. Ever.  
2) Do not say anything insulting, demeaning, or otherwise offensive to Roxie. Try to keep everything you say positive and life-affirming. Failing this, it would be best not to say anything to him at all.  
3) If you must piss off other members of the band, don't do it in front of Roxie. In fact, don't yell or say anything negative to anyone in his presence.  
4) Never cheer Roxie up when he's songwriting.  
5) If you notice Roxie starting to get too fucked up, cut him off. No matter how pissy he is about it.  
6) Don't let Roxie dwell in his own self-pity and depression. (Unless he's songwriting.)  
7) Don't ask Roxie about his personal life, sex life, or past.  
8) Pretend to agree with Roxie, no matter how stupid what he's saying is, unless it contradicts any of the previous guidelines.  
9) Do whatever Roxie says, unless it contradicts any of the previous guidelines.  
10) Never mention the Guidelines for Harmonious Living to him.

Failure to comply with any of these rules is not in your best interest. Do so at your own discretion. You've been warned.

Was it some kind of joke? Or were these actual rules? Morgan was wondering what he had gotten himself into, and hating Roxie Goldenrod before he had even met the man. After all, for what kind of person would such a list be necessary?

*****************************************************************************************************************************

Morgan was ready promptly at 8. He knew how much being on time was important. Rossi had arrived in a limo to the shit motel, which only served to embarrass Morgan more. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and jumped in.

Besides a smug looking Rossi there was a man of about thirty in a t-shirt and jeans looking bored. A goth woman with dark make-up and hair along with black fishnets and boots under a very short skirt. She was eyeing Morgan with mild curiosity. A guy that couldn’t be much older than twenty and had Mick Jagger’s skinniness, James Dean’s beauty, and the combined star power of both. The last had a Red Bull in one hand and a book in the other. He didn't look up from his book, but it didn't even appear he was reading it. He was turning the pages too quickly to be absorbing anything.

Bitch, Morgan thought. He must be Roxie.

"Morgan! So good of you to come. We're recording later today. It should take us about a week and a half to do the last five tracks on the album," Rossi said. He seemed to be a lot nicer than the night before. Maybe it was his idea of being 'positive and life affirming.' "Guys, this is Derek Morgan, your new drummer."

"Nice to meet you," the goth woman said, shaking a pale hand with obsidian nails. "I'm Emily."

The bored looking man nodded. "Aaron Hotchner. People call me Hotch." Morgan smiled.

"Hi," the kid said, still not looking up from his book. He took a deep swig of Red Bull.

"That's Roxie. He sometimes forgets his manners, but he's alright," Emily said. Morgan found himself liking her. If it weren't for her attire she would seem normal.

Roxie put his book down and chugged the rest of his energy drink. "Yes, well it's nice to meet you, but we don't need a drummer. We have one already."

"Spencer-" Emily started.

"-Roxie," Rossi interrupted.

"I'll call him whatever I like, thank you very much. Spencer, Elle's not coming back, you know that," Emily said. Her voice was almost maternal. Morgan had no idea what to make of the situation.

Roxie (Spencer?) laughed. "Do I? I don't believe you have any right to tell me what I do and don't know. It's not even possible to know the future in the loosest definition of knowledge." He played with his hands nervously in his lap. "Besides, she's just sulking; she'll be back in a day or two."

That's when it dawned on Morgan. Roxie was just a child. Admittedly, a very, very beautiful child, but still he had all the personality of one. And everyone just put up with him because he was so, well because everyone wanted to use him. For money, or sex, or whatever. Naturally, when he got whatever he wanted. All those stupid rules were to keep him happy. Because he was used to getting whatever he wanted.

"Spencer, I know it's hard, but you just have to let it go. I know you cared about Elle and she cared about you, but whether you like it or not, she's no longer a part of this band,” Hotch said. If Emily was the mother figure, then Hotch was clearly the father figure.

"It's true, Roxie. Her lawyers made a deal with ours. She's legally out of her contract. She didn't want to be in the band anymore. Why don't you call her?" Rossi said, handing him a phone.

Roxie took the phone and dialed without looking. "Hey, Elle! What's shaking, baby?" Silence. "Yeah? What's that?" Another pause. "You know that's not true, I care plenty!" Another pause in the conversation. Morgan wondered who this Elle was and what she was saying. "I know, and I'm sorry. But that doesn't have to change anything." It didn't seem like Roxie was winning. "I never did anything wrong! You're overreacting." One final pause. Morgan imagined Elle was ripping him a new one. "I see. Well if you really feel that way, it's your loss. I'm going to go. Call me if you change your mind." He handed the phone back to Rossi.

Hotch and Emily looked concerned. Rossi looked merely satisfied. Roxie yawned and stretched, pretending not to care. Morgan couldn't help but notice how his bare stomach was exposed when he stretched. He could see why everyone was so fond of him. He cursed himself, wishing he hadn't been susceptible to the pure sexual energy the man possessed. It wasn't like he hadn't seen other rock stars or celebrities before. And many of them possessed that same aura of inhuman perfection. But this was different. Morgan had never found himself... so affected by it. He couldn't tear his eyes away.

It didn't matter though. He was just a kid. Not to mention he was clearly caught up on whoever this Elle chick was. Clearly she had defied the Guidelines for Harmonious Living. Or maybe they were invented as a reaction against her. Regardless, the list was starting to make a bit more sense.


	2. Chapter 2

Several hours later they were finally ready to start recording. First Rossi had made Morgan listen to the seven tracks already recorded from the album. They genuinely surprised Morgan. The kid had real talent. He had been expecting lame pop music with crappy lyrics and singing enhanced heavily by auto-tune. Instead he found a rich tapestry of harmonies and melodies and a voice Morgan would have killed to have. The lyrics were equally surprising. They weren't about truckloads of women he did (or even one for that matter,) but mostly about what was wrong with the world, the people around him, and himself. They were written through characters and twisted up just enough that you didn't stand a chance of knowing what they were about. There was one song Morgan was thought might have been about a woman in a sanatorium, maybe Roxie's mother. Either that or a metaphor for his own lingering insanity. One line kept singing in Morgan's ears. "I stare into the mirror, wondering who's gonna appear." 

It was even better to hear him sing in person, with the band behind him. They had played the song they were meant to record that day a few times so Morgan would know how it went. It was called "Surrogate Fucker."

Had Morgan been a crier, he would have been crying at that. He was thinking about that old Roberta Flack’s song, “Killing Me Softly”. Finally, he understood what it meant. "Strumming my pain with his fingers, Singing my life with his words. Killing me softly with this song, killing me softly, With his song, telling my whole life, With his words." No song had ever touched him like that. Especially on the first listen. But here he was sitting in a room with this beautiful God playing this simple melody on an acoustic guitar and belting out Morgan's life-story as if it were the only thing that ever mattered.

"They're a surrogate for the person who left you too soon,   
You want to trust them but it's so painful and hard to attune   
To the terror you feel returning each afternoon   
To the agony you feel when you enter the room," Roxie sung. 

No, not Roxie, Morgan thought. Spencer sung. This wasn't some spoilt brat kid, this was a real person.

Maybe they would be as big as The Beatles after all.

*****************************************************************************************************************************

Another thing that surprised Morgan was how quiet Roxie was. He only seemed to speak when spoken too. If you asked the right question, he would go off on a rant, but if you asked the wrong one he wouldn't say anything. Most of the time he stuck to one or two sentence answers.

"Well, I think that went well," Rossi said pleasantly after they finished recording. "Don't you, Roxie?"

Roxie looked uncertain, and Morgan thought a little sad. "I guess so."

"It was great," Emily said, patting Roxie on the back. 

"We record at ten tomorrow. You'd all better be there," Rossi said as a way of dismissing them.

"Coming for drinks, Morgan?" Emily asked. Morgan nodded his consent. It wasn't like he had anything better to do and he figured he had better get used to spending a lot of time with these people.

They hailed two cabs for the four bandmates. Morgan somehow ended up in a cab with Roxie, who just sat there awkwardly staring out the window as if there was nowhere else in the world he wouldn't rather be. Morgan was starting to think Roxie might never talk to him even if they were in a band together for twenty years. 

Then Roxie decided to make some sort of lame attempt at conversation. "You're a good drummer." His voice was timid and childlike, so different but so similar to his singing voice. 

God, what was it about that kid? If anyone else had said something like that he would have taken it as a given. But when Roxie said it, Morgan felt his stomach fall and found himself genuinely flattered and flustered. "Thanks. You're on okay musician yourself."

"Yeah," Roxie said, apparently tired of conversation.

The kid seemed uninterested in anything since Morgan had met him. Was he that caught up on that Elle chick? Or was he just genuinely miserable? Morgan tried not to think about the song. He didn’t want to think Roxie had to deal with that. He was just a fragile little kid. Just like Morgan had been. It wasn’t fair. "Do you like being a musician, Roxie?"

For the first time, Roxie favored Morgan with a look. He looked entirely surprised, and Morgan realized it was the first real emotion he had seen from him -at least when he wasn't singing. "No one's ever asked me that before."

"No?" Morgan asked. 

Roxie shook his head. "No, everyone just assumes I do. I mean, everyone wants to be a rock star, right?"

"Do you?" Morgan asked. He felt a little like he was playing therapist, but he was enchanted by Roxie's strange answers.

"No, I want to go home," Roxie said quickly without having to stop and think. "I like being a musician. I don't like being a rock star."

Morgan frowned. He had taken Roxie to be spoilt, but what he really wanted was simple and respectable. "Why can't you go home?"

"Contract." Roxie said it the way someone else might say 'cancer.' "Have they made you sign one yet?" Morgan nodded grimly. "I'm sorry. I guess we're stuck together." Roxie forced a smile and made brief eye contact.

"I guess so," Morgan said, trying not to sound too happy about it. Since the last question didn't seem to go so bad, he got brave. "Can I ask what the deal was with your old drummer?" Morgan asked. He knew he wasn't supposed to, but he was so damn curious. And it wasn't like Rossi was there to get pissy about it.

Roxie exhaled deeply and clasped his hands together tightly. "She ran away."

"Why?" Morgan asked.

"Because I wouldn't give her what she wanted," Roxie replied.

Morgan couldn't help but pry on, even if he thought it might be like putting oil on a fire. "Which was...?"

Roxie put his feet up on the seat and hugged his knees silently for the next seven minutes. Eventually he spoke up, but he ignored the question entirely. "You're nothing like Elle. I think I like that about you."

Morgan had no idea what that could possibly mean, but he decided not to press any further. In no time at all, they were at the bar and things didn’t stop getting stranger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked it, please take the time to comment. Motivation to post is low when it seems like nobody's reading this.


	3. Chapter 3

Before they even stepped ten feet in, women were assaulting Roxie with attention. A bigger girl in high-heels and a wacky dress was kissing his cheeks with bright red lips. A more refined business woman hugged him quickly.

"Roxie! Your hair looks combed. Have you not been listening to anything I've been saying?" The bigger girl said, fluffing and messing his hair to her liking. Roxie just let her and never bothered to answer. "And who is this handsome hunk of muscle? He's almost as cute as you. Almost."

Before either Roxie or Morgan could answer, the business-looking woman did. "This is Derek Morgan, the new drummer. She's Penelope Garcia, stylist and I'm Jennifer Jareau, media consultant. JJ for short." She shook his hand professionally. Garcia instead took him in for a bear hug.

Prentiss and Hotch soon arrived, and they were all having drinks. To Morgan everyone seemed to be laughing and having a good time, except for Roxie. He just sat there quietly, smiling tentatively and taking gulps of tequila that seemed to be a never-ending supply.

"Hey," JJ said. "You should slow down. You have to record tomorrow morning."

"Who cares? There's something to do every morning. I won't feel any more unhappy hungover. I will feel more unhappy sober," Roxie said.

"I'm warning you, Roxie. I'll call Rossi, I swear to God," JJ said.

He took one last shot in rebellion before saying, "Fine."

That concluded Roxie's lines for the rest of the evening. Morgan couldn't help but wait to hear more.

*****************************************************************************************************************************

Morgan later found out it wasn't usually that easy to dissuade Roxie from using substances. He drank often, and usually JJ or Rossi or someone of authority could convince him to stop. But if they weren't careful, he would pick it back up half an hour later. Not that alcohol was his only vice, Morgan had seen him smoke pot on several occasions, and he wasn't sure that was the only drug he dabbled in. As a result, he was buzzed or high a good portion of the time. Rossi seemed to find that okay as long as he wasn't throwing up or yelling at important people. When he was sober, he said very little and stayed in a haze of depression where it was very difficult to get him to do anything at all. Rossi didn't like that either.

It was a couple of weeks into the tour when Roxie asked Morgan to go for drinks. He had been reluctant because he didn't like the younger man's reliance on substances, but no matter how much he didn't want to admit it, he wanted to spend time with Roxie. He agreed, justifying the reason as it would be better to keep an eye on him.

It was strange, drinking with just the two of them. For the first while neither of them said anything. That had become their dynamic. Ever since the first day Morgan had been in the band, Roxie had been drawn to him. He spent as much time as possible with him. But their conversations were few and far between. Morgan had got used to it and found he didn't mind at all. His company was non-assuming and enjoyable when he was quiet. But Morgan liked it a little bit more when he did talk. It always felt as if Roxie was testing him somehow. His questions always challenging, his answers always sparce. The best thing about Roxie was that everything he said mattered, he didn't open his mouth if it didn't.

When their third drinks came, Morgan decided to ask a challenging question of his own. "Roxie, why do you like to drink so much?"

He just shrugged and took a gulp of his drink.

"Maybe you shouldn't," Morgan said. He was having a hard time knowing what to say. He had never been to an intervention before and was sure real ones wouldn't be held at a bar.

That was when Roxie got mad. "You're just like them! You're going to tell me what I should do, who I should be. I thought you were different. I thought we were friends!"

"Roxie, we are friends," Morgan said, but he wasn't really sure. As much as he liked Roxie, it was like being friends with a child, having to adapt your entire personality to their needs. But maybe that was a good thing. Roxie was simple, direct, and innocent even with everything around him. The only thing wrong was the alcohol and drugs. "I'm not going to tell you what to do. I was just telling you what I thought."

Roxie looked down and Morgan realized there was tears in his eyes. "Morgan...?"

"Yeah?"

"I like it because it's the only way I'm happy," Roxie said.

It hurt Morgan to hear that. He had only known him a month, but he was already very emotionally invested in 'Roxie Goldenrod.' "But it's not real happiness. You're going to end up ruining your life is you keep this up."

Roxie was full blown crying then. "It can't get any worse than it already is!"

Morgan was suddenly very keenly aware that everyone in the bar was looking at them. He ignored them. "Roxie, I'm sorry..."

"Don't call me that. Call me Spencer. Friends call their friends by their real names, right?"

"I wouldn't know, I haven't had many friends before," Morgan said. They were both divulging personal secrets now. It was bizarre. Morgan had had more conversations with the mailman than Roxie, and yet he had told him more than he had anyone else in his life. "I guess that means you get to call me Derek."

"Derek," Roxie said, trying it out. Then he continues quieter. "Derek, can you help me quit? Can you help me be happy?"

No one had ever asked Morgan something like that before. He had never been someone to depend on emotionally. And Spencer sounded so utterly heart-broken that Morgan took his hand before saying, "Of course I will, Spencer."

He wondered what people in the bar thought. He figured it looked like they were a couple about to break up, but had decided to stay together. Morgan found he didn't mind them thinking that at all, in fact he kind of liked it.


	4. Chapter 4

It took Roxie exactly three days to decide he hated being sober. Morgan woke up from a nap and found him lying on his back in the middle of the tour bus floor, wearing shades and smoking a cigarette. (Neither of them had given up smoking or talked about it. It would have made a lot of sense, but Morgan figured they ought to take one thing on at a time.) Combined with tight leather pants and a shirt he had barely bothered to do up halfway, he looked like a true rock star.

Rossi attempted to make Roxie talk, but it was to no avail. Emily repeatedly was asking him what was wrong, but he didn't reply to that either. Hotch just sat on the couch with Emily, knowing it was a lost cause.

"Why are you lying on the floor?" Morgan asked.

"I'm depressed. I hate this," Roxie said. "I've got a bottle of tequila in my bag, let's get wasted."

Emily huffed. "Of course, he fucking talks to you."

"Shut up, Emily," Morgan said. "We were quitting drinking, remember?"

Roxie blew a thick puff of smoke. "I don't want to. It's too hard."

That's when Rossi flew off the handle. "You're responsible for this? You got him to quit drinking? Jesus, Christ the kid can barely crawl out of bed sober. Why could you possibly think this was a good idea?"

Morgan was really pissed now. "You're such a fucking dick, Rossi. He's a human-being, not just a means of making you a profit."

"God, all anyone ever talks about is Roxie," Emily yelled. "You're all obsessed with him! Why don't you just get on your knees and blow him already? And Roxie, you're just a spoiled brat. You're all asses. Are you really that special that you can't even talk to me? I feel like I'm going crazy being locked away with you people and only fucking Hotch talks to me."

"Fucking Hotch? What did I do to you?" Hotch fired back. "I guess I'm not good enough for your company?"

Roxie had sat up now and hugged his knees. "Can everyone please stop yelling?"

"Oh, sorry, Roxie. We all have to do everything you say," Emily said. "Because you're so fucking special."

"Do you even hear how much of a bitch you're being right now?" Morgan asked.

"Do you even hear how much you sound like his lap-dog?" Emily asked. At the point, Roxie started crying. He took his shades off in order to wipe his eyes and sobbed silently. "Why don't you go kiss him and make him feel better? You know you want to."

Morgan did want to, but obviously it was neither the time nor the place. Pushing Spencer into something like that when he was in such a vulnerable place was not what he needed at all. And if he was going to kiss him, he didn't want the first time to be such a horrible memory.

"Why doesn't everyone just calm down?" Rossi said. Morgan hated that he sounded like the voice of reason, when Rossi was the one he hated the most. But Emily and Morgan backed off and shut up. Roxie didn't calm down or stop crying instead he found the bottle of tequila and a corner to sit in and drink straight from the bottle. "Why don't you take it easy, Roxie?" Rossi said.

"This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Roxie asked between sips, his voice cracked from crying. "I'm sure not going to be sober when I'm done with this."

Morgan went and sat next to him. "You're not really going to drink all that, are you?"

Roxie took another sip and didn't look at him. "Maybe..."

Morgan wondered how much he had drank so far. He was taking small sips, but he was doing it consistently. His throat must be on fire. He just barely heard Emily whisper to Hotch, "He's just being dramatic, isn't he?"

"You're a skinny guy, I've seen you throw up after eight shots. You know that would kill you, right?" Morgan said, fearing the answer.

"That's kind of the point," Roxie said. "Living isn't really working out for me." The next thing he said in a whisper. "No one would care anyway."

"I happen to know a lot of people who would care," Rossi said. "What about your fans?"

Morgan sshed Rossi, the worst suicide help ever. "I would care, Spencer." Roxie held the bottle away from his lips and thought about this.

"Really?" Roxie wiped the tears away from his eyes.

"Very much so," Morgan said. He wanted to touch him, to give him some physical comfort, but he didn't know how. And he was also keenly aware of the others watching him. He remembered Emily's 'blowing him' comment. "Now why don't you give me that and we'll talk about this?"

Roxie handed him the bottle of tequila and shook his head. "I don't want to talk about it. They all think I'm stupid and making a big deal about nothing."

Emily walked over and gave Roxie a bear hug. How can she do that? After all those things she said to him, about him, she's still better at comforting him than I am. Is there something wrong with me?

"I'm sorry. I was being a jerk, I didn't mean that. I'm just having a bad day. I shouldn't have said any of those things." Roxie accepted the hug, but didn't return it.

"Listen," Morgan was aware of how the rest of the group might misinterpret what he was about to say, but he didn't care. "How about just you and I talk about it later, okay?"

"Okay," Roxie said. He choked back a sob, but he managed to smile up at Morgan, no matter how small.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I accidentally posted chapter 3 twice. I have now corrected that situation and chapter 4 is actually chapter 4. You should probably go read that first if you want this chapter to make any sense.

It turned out to be a long time before they were ever alone. They had a three hour drive and a concert first. Morgan tried to talk to Roxie before the show, but everyone kept pulling them apart to get changed, get their makeup done, and JJ had arranged an interview for Roxie backstage.

The show was painful and long and Morgan just wanted it to be over with. Roxie sung quietly the whole show and didn't seem to say anything between songs. It wasn't like his usual performances.

After the show they were ushered into a hotel, where they all had separate rooms. Morgan went to his first and took a much needed shower before going to Roxie's room to talk.

When he knocked on the door, Roxie didn't answer right away. "Spencer?" Morgan called. Then Roxie came and opened the door. "Hi, Morgan. I was just writing a song."

"Did you want to talk?" Morgan asked tentatively.

"Okay," Roxie said, moving out of the doorway so Morgan could enter. He went and sat on the edge of his bed. Morgan was struck by how odd it felt to be alone in a hotel room with Roxie. But of course, they were just friends. He sat on the bed next to Roxie.

"Spence, I worry about you," Morgan started.

"Why?"

That question struck him funny. why wouldn't Morgan worry about Spencer? Someone had to be concerned for him, his health and well-being. "Because I care about you and you drink too much and you're sad all the time."

"So are you," Spencer said quietly.

Morgan was surprised at how what Spencer said could always take him aback. How did Spencer know that? It wasn't something Morgan liked to admit, even to himself. But Spencer seemed to be able to look past Morgan's brave face. "I wasn't thinking about killing myself today, though."

"Just today?" Spencer said raising an eyebrow.

"No, or any other day. But you were going to kill yourself today. Doesn't that register with you?" Morgan asked.

"I'm not going to kill myself anymore."

"Well, I'm glad. But I still think you should talk about what's going on," Morgan said.

"I've always been unhappy. I have plenty of reasons," Spencer said.

"Such as?" Morgan pried.

"My mom's schizophrenic, she's at a psychiatric hospital," Spencer said. "My dad... he raped me."

Morgan thought he felt his heart physically break. He didn't want to know that. More accurately, he didn't want that to have happened to Spencer. He was so innocent. He was just a kid! How could someone do that to him? "Spencer, I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well that doesn't help," Spencer snapped, uncharacteristically. "But you'd know that, wouldn't you?"

And there it was. The thing Morgan had been hiding his whole life, was just mentioned ever so casually. There was a sense of panic in him, but even stranger a sense of relief. "What are you talking about?"

"I can tell," Spencer said. "I'm good at reading people."

Apparently he was. No one had ever noticed before. Or had they, and they just hadn't said anything? The thought made Morgan's heart race. He never wanted anyone to know.

And now he was crying. He never cried. And he didn't want to cry in front of Spencer. "I'm going to go."

"Derek, wait," Spencer said, grabbing Morgan's hand.

"Spencer, I can't talk about this," Morgan said.

"You said we could talk," Spencer said, accusingly.

"I can't right now," Morgan said, and he bolted out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to anyone who may still be reading this! I hope you like the chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Does everyone know who James Dean is? Well he’s the only person I can think of that mildly comes to the same level of sexiness that Matthew Gray Gubler does.
> 
> Oh, and I’ll introduce the other CM characters in later chapters. Even Gideon eventually.
> 
> Please comment?


End file.
